


Poinsettias and Leather

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild D/s, PWP, boot fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: Lavender saves her best Christmas present to Neville for last.





	Poinsettias and Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Written for daily_deviant's Kinky Kristmas, 2009.

Neville looked up at the fairy lights twinkling from the tree, Lavender snuggled in his arms, and thought life couldn’t get much better than this. The detritus of Christmas morning surrounded them: drifts of brightly coloured paper and shiny bows and scraps of ribbon lapping at islands of different-sized open boxes, filled with gifts. The house smelled of gently simmering mulled spices and of the goose Lavender had roasting in the oven for Christmas dinner.

“Happy Christmas, love,” Neville murmured, chin propped on Lavender’s shoulder. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear, just to feel her shiver pleasurably. His lips brushed against the diamond drop earrings she wore, one of his gifts to her. “I could stay here all day.”

“Unfortunately we can’t,” Lavender replied, disengaging from Neville’s arms and standing. “I’m going to go change into something appropriately Christmas-y. Why don’t you get started on breakfast, and I’ll join you in a few minutes? I’m thinking something light since we’ll be eating dinner soon, fruit and toast and tea perhaps?”

Neville climbed onto his feet with a small groan. “I suppose.” He started toward the kitchen, detouring half-way to kiss Lavender again. “Don’t take too long.”

Once in the kitchen, Neville began slicing bananas and kiwi fruit, halving strawberries, and plucking grapes from their stems, tossing them together in a bowl for fruit salad. A plate nearby held a nice stack of buttered toast. A flick of his wand brought plates and cutlery to the kitchen table.

He was mixing honey and vanilla yoghurt together to drizzle over the fruit salad when he spotted Lavender from the corner of his eye, moving back into the lounge. Looking up, he nearly dropped his mixing spoon in shock, mouth going dry as all the blood rushed from his head to take up residence in his cock, leaving him dizzy with arousal.

_Something appropriately Christmas-y_ , Lavender had said. Neville had imagined an ensemble in Christmas red or green, or perhaps a jumper knit in a snowflake motif. What he _hadn’t_ imagined was a black lace bra adorned with two stylised poinsettias in red silk directly over her nipples, a matching pair of barely-there black lace knickers decorated with another silk poinsettia poised over her mound, and black thigh-high boots, the leather skin-tight, clinging lovingly to every curve of calf and thigh, with just enough give around the knees to allow walking and kneeling. Her rich brown hair was piled high atop her head, held together with a single clip (also adorned with poinsettias) that only needed a touch from Neville’s fingers to send the entire mass cascading downward. A few tendrils that had escaped the clip curled artfully over one shoulder.

“Like what you see?” Lavender purred, striking a pose, balancing with ease on spiky six-inch heels. Crooking her finger, she beckoned him forward. “I thought I’d save the best gift for last. Happy Christmas, Neville. Come open me.”

Three long-legged strides brought Neville out of the kitchen and into the centre of the lounge, his arms going around Lavender and hauling her against him. “Vixen,” he growled softly, tipping her face up to meet his. “You know how much I love seeing you in those boots.”

“Why do you think I wore them?” Lavender asked playfully. Neville’s lips pressed against hers before she could continue, his tongue sliding into her mouth in a searing, possessive kiss. Humming into his mouth, she laid her hands over his belly, undulating her hips against his. She was breathless when the kiss ended, eyes dilated with her own excitement as she murmured, “I don’t think you even noticed the lingerie.”

“Oh, I noticed, all right,” Neville answered, looking down at the bra and knickers in question and grinning appreciatively. “They’re very festive. Makes me want to explore what’s behind them.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

If anything, Neville’s grin widened, hands moving from Lavender’s hips to her breasts, cupping them in his palms, thumbs stroking over the centre of the silk poinsettias covering her nipples until they stood out in hard points. Lavender arched into his caresses, a soft sigh spilling past her lips.

Bending his head, Neville kissed the top swell of each breast, mouth lowering until he could replace his thumbs with his lips, suckling gently through the red silk, bringing her nipples into even greater prominence.

“Nice carpels,” he murmured, tongue touching the damp silk; and Lavender let out a breathless laugh.

“Only you could think of botanical terminology at a time like this!”

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Neville straightened, drawing Lavender into a deep, lush kiss. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Not this time, anyway,” she replied in amusement.

Neville’s mouth left hers, lips tracing the delicate line of her jaw to the spot below her ear, feeling her shiver of response in his arms. Lifting a hand, he brushed back a tendril of hair, feathering kisses along her shoulder, lips lingering over the old scars from seventh year, shifting around her until her back was pressed against his chest. Still nuzzling her throat, he wrapped one arm around her, his hand moving back and forth from one breast to the other, fingers stroking and tugging at her nipples, still hidden beneath the silken poinsettias until he found the front clasp and worked it open so he could slide his hand under the black lace. His other hand moved down Lavender’s belly, his palm slipping beneath the knickers to cup her behind the poinsettia there. He could feel her heat, radiating against his skin, knew that if his fingers moved only slightly lower he’d find her slick and wet and receptive.

“Bend over,” he whispered into her ear, nipping gently at the lobe. “I want you to grab the arm of the sofa and spread those luscious leather-clad legs for me so I can give you the attention and reward you deserve.”

Lavender moaned at the words and the quiet authority injected into them and obeyed, bending gracefully at the waist, her legs spread wide, buttocks pushed out in erotic display. Neville paused to admire the arch of her back and the look of naked, undisguised lust written on her face before reaching out to remove the clip holding up her dark brown hair, letting it fall in waves around her shoulders.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, tossing the hairclip onto the sofa and running his fingers over her pert, rounded arse. “You’re beautiful like this. It makes me wish Christmas came every day.”

“Next year we won’t bother with the tree, then,” Lavender said smartly, and Neville laughed.

“Of course we will,” he replied, kneeling behind her. “I like Christmas trees. Not as much as I like being with you, but it’s at least third or fourth on the list of favourite things.” 

Leaning in, Neville rubbed his cheek against the back of one thigh, releasing a sigh of pure, decadent pleasure at the feel of buttery soft leather against his skin. He inhaled deeply, palm skimming along Lavender’s other leg, savouring the supple grain beneath his fingertips. Turning his head, he pressed his lips against Lavender’s calf, moaning at the pungent taste. Kissing his way all the way to the top, he breathed in the rich, spicy scent, mingled with the equally intoxicating, earthy aroma of Lavender’s arousal. Hooking his fingers through the elastic, Neville tugged down her knickers, baring her glistening folds to his gaze.

Carefully, Neville parted her folds with his thumbs and bent his head, tongue flickering over Lavender’s clit, hearing her sudden indrawn hiss of pleasure. He began licking in earnest, listening as her whimpers and mewls evolved into panting cries with each caressing swipe of his tongue, her hips pressing back mindlessly against his lips. Finding her centre once more, Neville sealed his mouth over her nub and suckled, fingers tightening around Lavender’s leather-encased thighs, holding her in place when she bucked, her cries increasing in both pitch and volume. His lips and tongue moved over her, tasting and suckling, feeling her tremble and tighten, writhing beneath the sensual onslaught. 

His tongue circled her, over and over, just like _that_ , just _so_ , and Lavender shattered around him, convulsing, her cries echoing throughout the room as she came, flooding Neville’s mouth with a fresh surge of wetness. He pulled away, his cheeks and chin still wet with her juices, and stood. Grasping her hip, Neville tugged down his boxers and guided himself to her entrance, pushing inside with a single stroke.

Merlin, she was so hot, so tight, so fucking good, clenching and releasing around his length; and Neville fought to hold still long enough until the urge to slam into Lavender until they both came screaming passed. Only then did he start to move, keeping his thrusts measured, the pace driving him nearly mad with the slow friction.

“Neville, please,” Lavender whimpered, pushing back against him. “Harder, oh god, Neville...”

He complied, unable to resist her breathless pleas, rearing back and plunging in, harder and faster, setting a pounding rhythm. One arm curved around her hip, finding her slick, sensitive core, his fingers playing over her clit with insistent frenzy. His thrusts grew shorter, harder as he neared orgasm, covering Lavender’s shoulders with hot, open-mouthed kisses as she came yet again. Neville followed, the spasmodic clench and release rippling along his cock pulling him along until the tightness in his balls and belly overwhelmed him. 

“Lavender,” Neville gasped as the first spurt erupted, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerked, cock throbbing as it emptied deep inside. “God, Lavender...”

Wrapping his arms around her, Neville collapsed onto the carpet, pulling Lavender with him. They lay there, sated and pliant and content, Lavender’s fingers sifting through his damp hair while their breathing steadied and the sweat on their bodies cooled.

“I love you,” Neville breathed, lifting his head, meeting Lavender’s eyes. “Thank you for the gift.”

“You’re welcome,” Lavender replied. She stretched, wincing, and managed to climb back onto her feet despite the scrap of black lace tangling her thighs and the six-inch heels. Neville scrambled to follow, one arm going around her waist until she found her balance. She tugged up her knickers but left the bra unclasped and her breasts free, which, along with her tumbled tresses added to her general aura of debauchery. Neville was fairly certain he looked much the same.

“I guess the toast and tea is cold by now,” he said. “There’s plenty of fruit salad, though.”

“Good. I’m starving.” Lavender started toward the kitchen, hips swaying. “And after that we’re both going to need showers.” She looked at him over her shoulder, smirking. “I’m going to need some help getting these boots off first, you know.”

_Happy Christmas to me_ , Neville thought joyfully, following her into the kitchen. Merlin, he loved this woman!


End file.
